


from now on

by basementhero



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, holiday drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementhero/pseuds/basementhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Niall have apparently not read The Gift of the Magi.</p><p>alternatively: Harry and Niall make morally compromising decisions for money to buy each other Christmas presents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from now on

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5 of my 25 Days of Narry Holiday Songs drabble challenge on tumblr. The song is "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," which, for me, will always be linked to the Bert and Ernie subplot of Christmas Eve on Sesame Street.

As Harry exits the dingy little building and lets the door fall closed behind him, he can viscerally feel what’s left of his soul shrinking back in actual misery. He’s just sold one of his  _babies_  to a shady executive in an ugly brown suit, and he can’t ever get it back. The minor, less-than-completely-legitimate record label he’s sold his song to can do whatever they want with it now. He knows they’ll inevitably trash the bridge (“The summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation” may be Harry’s favorite line, but he’s not stupid enough to think the men he’s just negotiated with will agree with the sentiment), and probably they’ll wreck the Beatles-esque feel to make everything more pop/electronic mainstream. They’ll certainly never think to add trumpets to the chorus. “Olivia” is officially out of his hands and control. He’s got a check for a hefty sum weighing down in his coat pocket but is it really enough to make up for how  _wrong_  it feels?

Yes. The answer is yes. Because no matter how much Harry  _hurts_  over losing his song–over signing away hours of his work and a piece of his heart–the fortune he’s suddenly found himself carrying is going to brighten up Christmas for the one person Harry would do anything for: Niall, his boyfriend of two years.

They’ve both had a rough year: Niall lost a fairly steady office job due to company downsizing and had to take up a bartending position at a seedy pub down the block; Harry had his demos rejected by no less than ten different record labels and had a nasty run-in with his shitty ex-boyfriend that left him with a black eye and a bruised rib for weeks. Their tiny flat still doesn’t have reliable heat and the winter is already shaping up to be a brutal few months, not to mention the fact that they have lost a lot of sleep due to their incredibly loud upstairs neighbors. Harry and Niall are both a bit too skinny, a bit too tired, a bit too stressed. Harry knows an expensive Christmas present isn’t going to fix all of Niall’s problems, but he at least wants it to bring one of the blonde’s genuine grins back to life in a way that they’ve been lacking for a while.

(And if he has much money left over, he’s going to take Niall out for a haircut and dye as well, because he’s heard his boyfriend bemoaning just how weird his hair looks with his natural color taking over more and more every time he’s gotten a trim. Of course rent and food are more important than Niall’s hair, but it would be nice to just focus on the little problems and fix them instead of spending all their time worrying about the major, persistent troubles.)

After he’s cashed the check, bought the guitar he knows Niall’s half in love with (knows because every time he’s ever been in this music store with Niall, his boyfriend has gravitated to the guitar like a magnet is pulling him in), and gotten it safely back home where he hides it under their cheap bedframe, Harry finds himself much happier than he has been for weeks. He’s smiling as he imagines Niall’s face when he sees the guitar on Christmas morning, and decides he might as well go down to the pub where Niall’s working a double shift so he can see the object of his fantasies in person. It’s going to be difficult not to spoil the secret immediately upon locking eyes with his boyfriend, but Harry is determined to surprise Niall on Christmas morning. It’s only a little more than a day away–Harry can probably hold out.

The walk to the pub isn’t long, especially with the skip in Harry’s step. He smiles at all of the people he passes in the light of the streetlamps; most of them scowl or scrunch their faces in confusion, but he does get a grin from a young woman (much to the chagrin of the man she’s walking hand-in-hand with).

Harry steps into the pub and his smile is almost immediately wiped away. Over the years he’s become accustomed to spotting Niall’s blonde head in crowds, so it never takes long for Harry to locate him anymore. Not twenty seconds after he’s fully inside the pub, he’s already found Niall, and it’s who Niall’s with that sinks Harry’s high spirits faster than he thought possible.

Niall, Harry’s  _boyfriend_ –the  _love of his life_ –isn’t behind the bar serving cheap beer like he’s supposed to be. He’s in a booth in the back, sitting on some middle-aged man’s lap and laughing at whatever the man is saying, not even apparently uncomfortable with the hands  _that aren’t Harry’s_  placed possessively on his hips. Harry watches long enough to see the strange man whisper into Niall’s ear–it’s  _kisspering_ , it’s what their friends have always teased Harry and Niall about doing–before he has to leave, has to get out of a room that’s become much too hot with the feeling of betrayal.

~~~

Niall is going to vomit. He feels sick all over, dirty. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s been in this position over the last month, he’s never  _not_  going to want to bolt outside and throw up and then take an hour-long shower to scrub away the feeling of people’s hands on his body, hands that he doesn’t want anywhere on his person. It’s fairly tame by most people’s standards, no one’s allowed to grope him or even kiss his cheek if he doesn’t agree to it, but there’s still something so inherently wrong about behind held, even quasi-innocently, by these people he doesn’t even know and doesn’t want to know.

He needs the money, though. The under-the-table cash is so important to him at the moment that he’s willing to sit on anyone’s lap and laugh at their stupid attempts at flirting and smile prettily for the notes they’re going to hand over when the night is done. He’s just providing nice company for the patrons, or so his boss promised when he’d finally caved and agreed to this arrangement. The men just want a friendly face to listen to them talk about their days, a warm body to hold for an hour or two while they unwind.

Niall refused for months until November rolled around and he knew he hadn’t saved nearly enough money to buy Harry a decent present. He knew very well that Harry would love anything Niall gave him, even if he just wrote “one free shag” on a piece of paper. But Harry deserves more than that. He’d been there for Niall when he was made redundant, took several blows from his ex when the asshole had seen Harry and Niall out on a date, dealt with rejection after rejection on his music dreams but never stopped making sure Niall was happy. There is literally nothing Niall can buy that will be close to what Harry deserves; he has to try, though.

Harry has an expensive taste in fashion, an aesthetic they cannot afford but which Harry is happy to talk about at all times. He’s been raving about some fancy boots for months–Saint Laurent, with heels that will add at least an inch to the height he already has over Niall. Harry’s not shallow, he doesn’t get upset that he can’t fund his footwear dreams, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t  _like_  to wear some of those weird shoes he likes to show Niall pictures of online. If Harry ever  _did_  get his hands on enough money for the boots, he would inevitably spend it on something stupid for Niall instead because that’s just how Harry is. So Niall’s going to get the money, and he’s going to buy Harry those boots, and it doesn’t really matter how sick he feels sitting on this guy’s lap because it’s honestly worth it.

His shift thankfully ends at eleven; he’s been working so much “overtime” that his boss has agreed to let him have the next two days off for the holiday. Niall’s got the last fifty quid he needed for Harry’s present, which means that tomorrow he will trek over to the high end stores he really has no business being in and will buy Harry’s present just in time for Christmas. Harry has a shift at the restaurant he’s been working at since just after he and Niall got together, but he usually gets home around seven, and since Niall will also be home that means they will have plenty of time to cuddle for warmth and enjoy a nice Christmas Eve evening together. Even the lingering feeling of invisible grime and filth cannot dampen Niall’s spirits as he makes his way home.

He’s a bit surprised to find Harry asleep on their lumpy couch when he gets home, even more surprised to see that Harry’s face is red, like he’d been crying before he fell asleep. Niall gently shakes his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Harry. Wake up.”

“Niall?” Harry mumbles in a sleepy yawn, blinking his eyes open slowly. As soon as his eyes focus on Niall, though, he’s jumping to his feet and frowning angrily. “Decided to come home, have you?” He spits out.

Niall is very confused. “What?”

“I saw you,” Harry responds cryptically.

“Saw me when?”

“You know when.”

 _Fuck_ , is all Niall can think. He feels sick again, maybe more intensely than he had before because Harry _knows_. Harry  _saw_. Harry thinks he’s been cheated on and the worst part is Niall feels so nauseous because he feels like cheating is exactly what he’s been doing. Certainly not emotionally and only dubiously willingly, but he’s basically cheated on Harry for money and Harry knows about it.

“Harry, I’m so sorry. But it wasn’t what it looked like, I swear. You don’t understand–”

“I don’t want to hear it. There is nothing you can say that will make this better, Niall.”

Harry doesn’t shout when he gets angry, not usually. He stays relatively calm and his voice doesn’t waver, but there’s none of the slow, bumbling speech Niall likes to tease him for, and he’s so, so serious. His eyes are hard and cold. Fighting with Harry is one of the worst things Niall has ever experienced because it stabs at his heart and leaves him feeling lost and upset. He can already tell that Harry isn’t going to listen to his story tonight; it’s best to retreat before anyone says something they’ll regret and  _pray_  that Harry will listen tomorrow.

“I love you. You have work in the morning and you need to get a good night’s sleep,” Niall reasons as confidently as he can when he knows he sounds shaky with the crying he won’t let himself do in front of Harry right now. “I’ll sleep on the couch, and we can talk over breakfast.”

Harry takes his suggestion without a word, retreats to their bedroom and closes the door. He can’t actually shut the door all the way because the frame has always been warped, but it’s a symbolic gesture and Niall feels it all the same as he settles onto their comfortable sofa for the night.

When Niall wakes up in the morning, a crick in his neck and a pain in his spine, Harry’s already left for work.

~~~

Harry spends the whole day alternating between seething and wanting to break down sobbing. His manager lectures him three times about being polite to the customers before just sending Harry home for the day. He doesn’t want to go home. The flat is a tiny, jumbled mess of his things and Niall’s all mixed like they  _belong_  together; Harry doesn’t want to see a physical representation of the relationship that’s apparently been one-sided. He certainly doesn’t want to go back and hear Niall’s excuses.

(Except he kind of does want to hear them. He wants Niall to convince him that what he saw didn’t mean anything. Harry wants to believe that nothing happened and he’s wrong so they can go back to their lives.)

He stalls for two hours by walking aimlessly around the city and getting a coffee at a cheap cafe. Eventually, though, he knows he has to go home and face the fight he avoided that morning by sneaking out of the house before Niall could wake up. He takes the stairs up to their flat as slowly as possible, fishes around for his keys for a minute longer than he needs to, hesitates before inserting the key and turning the doorknob.

When he finally has the courage to go inside, he almost runs straight into Niall, who stumbles backwards immediately to put space between them. He’s holding a medium-sized box wrapped in green paper and looks as nervous as Harry feels.

“I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be,” Niall says in a rush before Harry can even think of something to say to break the silence once the door is closed behind him, “but I want to give you this now.”

Niall thrusts the box away from his chest to hold it out for Harry to take it, which he does skeptically. Harry slips his keys back into his coat pocket so he has both hands free and can carefully tear the wrapping paper away.

He’s not really sure what to think of the gift once he’s got it fully opened. Of course he recognizes the boots in front of his face, the tan suede shoes are exactly what he’s been showing to Niall for a long time, gushing about wistfully because he’d never be able to afford them. He knows for a fact these boots are over a thousand pounds. He cannot understand how Niall came about purchasing them, not with either of their salaries being as low as they are.

“How…?” Harry glances up from the shoes to meet Niall’s anxious gaze with bewilderment.

“What you saw last night…My boss has been trying to get me to join in his side business for a while, pretty much since he hired me. He called it ‘ _companionship_ ’; it’s basically a poor man’s escort service. I agreed to do it because it’s a lot of money, Harry, and I wanted to get you a really nice present because I love you and you’ve just…you make me so happy  _all the time_  and I wanted to do something for you.” Niall has tears spilling down his cheeks at this point; he looks absolutely shattered. “It was stupid and I’m sorry. I felt so disgusting the whole time but I just kept reminding myself how happy you’d be when I got those for you and…I’m so sorry.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say. He’s still mad, upset that Niall would agree to something like that just to buy him some stupidly expensive shoes, but he doesn’t know if he has it in him to stay angry when Niall’s melting into a puddle of tears over a misguided decision. Besides, Harry made his own misguided and morally compromising decision for the same reasons.

“I sold “Olivia”,” Harry says before Niall can actually start crying for real.

“You did  _what_?” Niall gasps in shock.

“You think  _I_  make  _you_  happy?” Harry replies instead of directly answering. “Niall, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Harry walks over to the sofa and gently places his present down before rushing off to their bedroom to grab the guitar case he’d stashed the day before and returning to the living room with it before Niall can call after him. The look on Niall’s face when he realizes what Harry’s handing over to him is almost exactly what Harry had envisioned when he’d decided to buy it, just with more tears.

“I sold “Olivia” to that shady label that said they would take my songs but not me. They wrote me a check yesterday and I went straight to the music store to buy this for you because I knew you wanted it and I love you.”

Niall’s head snaps up at the sentiment Harry realizes he probably wasn’t expecting to ever hear Harry tell him again, which is a little bit heartbreaking. The guitar gets tossed (carefully) to the side in favor of Niall throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and soundly pressing their lips together.

Later they’ll have a long, serious conversation about how stupid they both were. They’ll both cry. Niall will apologize too many times and swear on too many people’s graves that he never let anyone touch him any more intimately than what Harry saw with his own eyes. Harry will forgive him just as many times and promise not to sign away his rights, hopes, and dreams ever again, especially not for Niall’s Christmas present. On Christmas morning Harry will wear red boxers and his new boots and Niall will carefully pluck out songs on his new guitar while Harry makes a veritable feast for lunch. But, for now, words and gifts aren’t all that important.


End file.
